Outhouses and Matzo Ball Soup
by 120shadowlev27
Summary: Puck finds Sam in an outhouse the day after he got out of one. Sam is reluctant to spill his secrets and to ask for help, but Puck and his grandmother have a way of taking care of people. Sam/Puck Slash.


Because there isn't enough Puck/Sam slash, just a mild one because its so hot and they both are protective. Costarring Puck's Nana and mother!

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><p>"Oh fuck, who did they get this time," Puck wondered out loud as he stared at the overturned outhouse. He had just gotten out of one the other day.<p>

School was over for the day, and Puck had come back here to see if his flash drive had fallen out on the ground. He had some primo porn on that thing and hoped it wasn't covered in feces. Instead, he found some other poor soul locked in an outhouse. The terrible memories wouldn't sit well if he left them. And he had reevaluated his definition of badass away from outhouses.

He strode over to the foul smelling contraption and pried open the lock, letting fresh air and sunlight into the device from hell. He blanched when he recognized the blonde hair and polo shirt. When the puppy dog face with the ginormous lips turned up to blink at him, blood and bruises muddying the entire appearance, Puck found inexplicable righteous anger rise up inside of him.

"Are you an angel?" Sam asked, and then spat blood into the blue water he was sitting in. It seemed that no one had used the outhouse before they threw Sam in there, which was definitely a plus. Puck hadn't been that lucky, but then again he hadn't had the shit beaten out of him first.

"Nah, but give me your arm, you look like shit, man," Puck said, reaching down to grab Sam under the arms and hoist him upright. The blonde groaned and swayed, so Puck had to do most of the work, throwing an arm over his shoulders and wrapping an arm around the woozy quarterback's waist. With a heave, Puck dragged him up and out of the outhouse, grimacing at the hiss that Sam let out.

"Let's get to my car, it's the closest," Puck said, eyeing the distance between the school and the parking lot. Sam nodded and tried to take his arm from around Puck's shoulders, but found it clasped firmly, "You aren't going to make it two feet if you let go of me," Puck admonished, tightening his grip around Sam's waist.

"Not that weak," Sam protested, his head lolling to the side to disprove his point, "I can take care of myself. Don't need help."

"So I should stick you back in the outhouse to let you take care of yourself?" Puck asked sharply. Sam frantically tried to pull away, freaking out.

"No, no, no," Sam groaned, "Don't put me in their, please don't." Puck held him tighter against his side and began to walk toward his car, away from the outhouse. He stroked his fingers down the blonde's hand, trying to calm him.

"Chill, I was just making a point," Puck said, "But that whole refusing help thing is stupid. People like helping more than receiving help."

" 'M not stupid," Sam grumbled, " 'M dyslexic so everyone thinks 'm stupid," tripping over his feet because he had gotten them confused. He definitely had a concussion, Puck thought as he heaved him upright again.

"Nah, you're not stupid, but you're definitely too stubborn," Puck soothed, "You're too much of a dork to be stupid." With that, Sam cracked a drowsy smile and split open his scabbed lips. Puck frowned and quickened his pace once he hit the asphalt. Once at his beat up pick up truck, Puck opened the door, shifting Sam into it. It was a piece of shit, so no one would steal it anyway. Puck used this as an opportunity to look Sam over. He had a black eye; blood crusted at his nose, a scab mangling his hair on his forehead, and cracked lips.

"How long were you in there?" Puck asked gently, reaching forward and tugging the hair out of the gash on the blonde's forehead. Sam winced.

"When did you get out of the outhouse?" Sam asked.

"Yesterday morning," Puck said, resting against the doorframe, watching as Sam lapped the blood from his lips.

"So I've been in there since after school yesterday," Sam murmured. Puck frowned and glanced at the school.

"Why'd they put you in there?" Puck asked. Sam raised a shoulder.

"I picked a fight, and beating the shit out of me wasn't enough," Sam murmured, "Do you have anything to drink?"

"Why the fuck would you pick a fight with them?" Puck asked angrily, digging a water bottle out of his bag, "Especially by yourself."

"Didn't want anyone else to get hurt," Sam murmured, eagerly sucking down the bottle.

"You probably shouldn't drink it that fast," Puck said, just as Sam shoved him aside and vomited on the ground by the pickup. He grimaced and pulled his towel out of his bag. It stunk like sweat, but Puck supposed it was better than shit and vomit. He closed the door and wandered over to the driver seat.

"I'm gonna take you to the hospital," Puck said, buckling in. Once the words were out, Sam flipped again.

"No, no, no," Sam gasped, pushing the door open and falling out onto the ground, "No hospitals, I can't go, I can't go,"

"Shit!" Puck said as he shoved the door open and ran around the car. Sam bared his teeth, eyes squeezed shut in pain, sprawling in his own vomit. Puck grimaced and reached down to help the blonde back into the car.

"Jesus, ok, no hospital," Puck said, "But you're coming home with me then." He wrapped his arms around the sodden chest and lifted him up and into the car. This time, he buckled the seat belt, because Sam was too busy clutching his stomach and hissing in pain, and he didn't want a repeat. Shakily, Puck shut the door and got back in the car. He quickly locked the doors and began backing up.

"What the fuck was that all about?" Puck asked. Sam sighed and turned to look at Puck. Damn, he looked like shit.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Sam asked. Puck nodded. Sam sucked in a breath, "My family is living in one room, in a motel. We lost our house because my dad lost his job. I can't afford hospital bills."

"Dude, that's fucked up," Puck murmured, pulling onto the main road, "You shouldn't go without healthcare just because you're family is on a downturn. I'm sure your parents would want you taken care of."

"I wouldn't tell them," Sam said softly, drawing Puck's sharp glance, "I wouldn't want to burden them. I've burdened them too much already with the dyslexia."

"That's not your fault," Puck urged. Sam sighed and shrugged.

"Sure feels like it sometimes and therapy costs more than we can afford, so I just end up pretending in front of them so they don't feel bad," he sighed. Puck snorted and shook his head. He was coming up on his house. His mom was home, which he supposed could be good or bad depending on her level of medication.

"How do you read for English?" Puck asked. Sam shrugged.

"I don't,"

"How do you keep your grades up for football?"

"I don't, I'm on academic probation, and go to mandatory study hall at lunch,"

"Dude, that's fucked up," Puck growled, parking hastily in the driveway, "Just because you have dyslexia doesn't mean you should get imprisoned and kept from the cafeteria food." He got out and strode over to help Sam out of the car. He ignored the blonde's attempts to shove him away.

"The school would want my parents to pay for therapy," Sam said, "So it's gonna stay like this unless I can find audio books for cheap and learn how to write telepathically." He groaned as he stood up with Puck's help. Puck fell silent.

"Mom, Nana, I brought home a friend!" Puck shouted as he reached the house. A small, bony woman in a babushka and flowery nightgown came into the room and covered her mouth.

"Noah, why is this boy all bloody and bruised?" she asked, walking over and probing Sam's face.

"He got beat up at school and has a concussion," Puck explained, "He doesn't want to go to the hospital, so I brought him hear to keep an eye on him. He's been in an outhouse since yesterday afternoon."

"Bring him in the kitchen," the elderly lady said and hurried into the kitchen. Puck helped Sam into the fragrant kitchen and down onto a wooden chair. The little woman stirred at a pot on the stove, which Puck looked into and smiled.

"You're in luck, Nana made Matzo ball soup," Puck said, before cowering as his grandmother rounded on him with the dripping wooden spoon. Sam quirked a smile at the way the bamf Puckerman cowered before an elderly lady and a spoon.

"Noah Puckerman, go get the first aid kit immediately and take care of this poor boy," she ordered. Noah smiled and hurried for the kit. The little lady gestured after the mohawked boy.

"Doesn't always think things through, that one," she said, "What was your name again?"

"Um, Sam, Mrs. Puckerman," Sam said awkwardly. She shook her head.

"Just call me Nana," Puck's grandma said, "Unless you call one of your grandparents Nana,"

"Nah, they're all gone," Sam said. Nana nodded sympathetically as Puck returned with the first aid kit. It was a first class football kit that he had lifted from the supply room.

Sam fell silent as Puck popped it open and drenched a patch of gauze with alcohol, while reading a little insert on concussions taped inside the kit. With gentle hands, Puck turned Sam's head.

"This is gonna sting," Puck murmured, gently dabbing at the cut on Sam's forehead. Sam winced and bit his lip as the caked blood came off his forehead and hair, then held still as Puck taped the cut shut. He tried to look away when Puck leaned down to stare at his face. Puck rolled his eyes and grabbed Sam's head, holding him still.

"Stay still," Puck growled, staring at Sam's eyes, "Your pupils are normal, so you don't need to go to the hospital."

"I can't afford-" Sam started before he was cut off.

"You're going if something looks dangerous, I'll pay myself," Puck growled and stood up, "Bullshit if I'm gonna let you die because you're too proud." He then yelped as Nana swatted him with the spoon.

"Language, Noah," she scolded, then turned her gaze from a pouting Puck to Sam, "But he's right dear, you'll do what's best for your health."

"Take these," Puck said as he handed the blonde Tylenol, "They won't mess with your head. Then you need to take a shower because you stink like shi- I mean a john." Puck said, glancing at his grandmother. Sam cracked another smile at this side of Puck.

"The soup will be done by the time you're done," Nana said emphatically, shooing him and Puck away. Sam stood up and found he was more stable on his feet, but Puck still hovered at his shoulder, an arm on his elbow.

"Here's the bathroom, let me get you clothes. Towels are in the closet," Puck said, bolting to his room and bringing back a small pile of folded fabric. Sam nodded and headed in.

Sam placed the clothing on the counter and turned on the water to heat up. He stripped down and folded his sodden, smelly clothes in a pile before stepping under the spray.

As he lathered shampoo into his hair, the door cracked open. Sam peered out behind the curtain and froze when the skinny, female, drug addict version of Puck stared at him while not seeing him.

"Um, hello," Sam said awkwardly, blushing. Abruptly, Puck appeared at the woman's elbow and shooshed her away towards the bedrooms.

"Sorry about that dude," Puck said, leaning against the door, "Mom took a little more than she should of of the anti-anxiety meds." Sam nodded and waited for Puck to leave, which took Puck a few minutes before he realized, "Oh, sorry."

Sam quickly finished his shower as the door closed, worried that somebody else might come in and see him naked. He toweled off and pulled on Puck's clothes. They were warm, like they were on a heat vent or fresh from the laundry, and a little baggier than he was used to in Kurt's clothes.

He froze when he stood in front of the mirror, the black and blue on his face in sharp contrast to his pale skin and hair.

"Dude, soup's done, stop being a girl so I can eat," Puck yelled, knocking on the door, and scaring Sam shitless. Sam hurriedly gathered up the towel and his clothes and opened the door. Puck took the clothes, which were actually Kurt's, and tossed them with the towel into the hamper.

"Just keep those with you," Puck said and trooped off to the kitchen.

The soup was delicious and sustaining. Sam and Puck slurped it down with a vengeance. When Sam finished, Puck stood up.

"Let's go to my room," Puck said. Sam stared at the dishes.

"What about these?" he gestured. Puck rolled his eyes.

"Nana will take care of it," he said and indicated Sam follow him. Sam did so slowly, heading into Puck's room. It was messy, but in an organized way. There were several distinct piles and, while the garbage was full, there was no garbage outside of it.

"Look, I've been thinking, I'm gonna help you with English," Puck said as he sat on his bed and nodded for Sam to sit.

"I don't need help," Sam mumbled. Puck snorted.

"Look, I don't want you off the team because you have dyslexia and are too much of a pussy to own up to it," Puck said, and cut Sam off as he opened his mouth to protest, "Besides, it'll help my grades too. I'll read the books to you and we'll write essays together, taking different sides or something."

Sam looked at the other thoughtfully. It was a very appealing idea, and Sam was tired of failing all the time.

"Sounds like a good plan," Sam smiled. Puck nodded, but didn't smile. Sam quirked his lip, "What else's on your mind."

"Why did you pick that fight, and don't bother fucking lying, cuz I'll know," Puck growled. Sam snorted and turned away.

"I don't have to tell you," Sam said sharply. Puck snarled and lurched over, knocking Sam onto his back and pinning him down, glaring at his face. Sam inhaled quickly, from pain and something else.

"You go the shit kicked out of you. I want to know why and you are going to tell me," Puck snarled in his face. Sam looked away before sighing heavily.

"I confronted them about throwing you in the outhouse," Sam murmured softly. Puck's face slackened, "It pissed me off, so I got into a row with them, but there were too many."

"That was stupid, you didn't have to do that," Puck said emphatically. Sam glared up at him.

"Don't call me stupid," Sam growled, "I did it because no one else was going to and I wasn't going to let that happen to you without making someone pay. I got a good few punches in before they got my arms." Puck grimaced at the idea of people holding Sam's arms behind his back while someone punched him. At the same time, he felt vaguely honored and touched.

"No," Puck said softly, caressing Sam's bruised cheek, "You're not stupid. No one's done that for me before. Thank you." Sam blushed and inhaled letting his head rest against Puck's hand.

Puck hoped he was reading the signals right when he leaned in pressed his lips against Sam's. Apparently he was, because instead of punching him, Sam melted into his arms and sighed softly in pleasure. Puck pulled and smiled softly.

"You took care of me," he said, "now I'm gonna take care of you."

"Thanks, Noah," Sam smiled, and then closed his eyes as Puck leaned down for another kiss.

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><p>Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed and will review.<p> 


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